


What The Heart Wants, Apparently

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Turns out Dean and Sam are fucking, Becky catches them and to shut her up they let her join and they show her a good time. Toppy!Sam please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Heart Wants, Apparently

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/2172.html?thread=2697084#t2697084).
> 
> I loved writing Becky! She's a wildcat in bed, you just know it. (This was written pre-S7, though.)

Dean picked up at the first ring of his phone, feeling desperate.

"You get the lube?" he demanded. He was getting blue balls, he'd been so damn horny for so damn long now.

"... Dean?"

It took a second for Dean to hone in on where he'd heard that voice before.

"... Becky?"

"Oh my gosh. Did you just say... ' _lube_ '?" hissed the gleeful voice, sounding barely contained.

"No!" Dean barked.

"Did you," Becky's voice was pretty much quivering with the effort not to explode, "think I was Sam??"

"Pie! Pie, I said pie!"

Wherever she was, this fanchick sounded way too ecstatic. "That's not what I heard."

Dean rounded on her, 'cause there was no way he was letting her trill on about something he was, uh, going to claim not to have said at all. Ever. "How'd you get this number, Becky?"

"Chuck!"

"Did he give it to you?" asked Dean, unamused.

He was pretty sure he ought to be going soft by now, but Sam had worked him over good, one strong huge hand on his thigh as they rode out of state, stirring him from the get-go but practically jacking him through his jeans by the time Dean gave up and let it all go -- all that pent-up frustration at the fact that there were idiots all over the country who had their facts twisted -- and pulled into a motel parking lot. Sam had gotten evil, then, and unbuttoned his jeans right there in the parking lot, going down on him even though they were in broad daylight. By the time Dean was hovering near the edge, breathing, _Sam. Oh, Jesus, Sammy_ , Sam pulled away, sitting up straight and wiping his mouth across his sleeve.

_Get us a room_ , he'd told Dean, pink-mouthed and breathing hard and totally in control.

_Now?_ Dean had panted, shifting uncomfortably with his cock out there in the front seat.

_Now. Give me the car._ Sam popped the passenger door open, and Dean hurried to try and stuff his dick back in his jeans. _There was an adult store about two miles back down the highway. We're gonna need lube._ He looked at Dean significantly and added, _Lots of it._

That was why Dean was squirming around on a squeaky mattress, staring at a bland painting of a sun-dappled pond or some shit, hard as hell. What he didn't get was why Swimfan was calling. He vaguely wondered if she'd kidnapped Sam and put him in a cage in some stank old barn.

"I may have borrowed his phone," said Becky, somehow making that sound dignified. "But listen! I'm in the parking lot now, and..." She paused and lowered her voice significantly. "I saw what you were doing."

"You're in the parking lot?" Dean repeated.

"Yes. I'm in the parking lot. You're at the Camelot Motel, room two, and you let Sam take your car to go get lube!" Dean held the phone away from his ear as she let out some kind of noise between a squeak and a crazy laugh, but then he heard her say, abruptly serious, "You are so in for it, Dean. I'm so happy for you. Sam is _amazing_ in bed. He is going to _ravage_ you. That's _canon_."

"Uh."

Dean had no idea what to say. For one, he already knew that first-hand, and second, he was surprised that Becky knew it, too. He hadn't gotten through the _Supernatural_ books far enough to hit a Sam sex scene, and now that he'd witnessed the whole convention thing, he wasn't ever going near them again. He didn't need to know. He didn't want to know. The one saving grace of the situation had been that he and Sam had finally given in to the inevitable and hooked up, and that Chuck couldn't publish brother-on-brother action if he couldn't publish Sam drinking demon blood. They'd told him no more books, too.

"Oh, boy, do you have the wrong idea, sister," he laughed, lying out his ass 'cause he didn't know what else to do.

"Look, Dean. Finding Chuck has given me a newfound clarity of mind," Becky loftily declared.

"That's debatable."

"I see now that I can never be with Sam. Or you. I know that Sam is yours. And you are his. And I would never change that. Ever. I've known since chapter three of the first book, where you needed Sam to help you find your father and came to him even though he'd ripped your heart out by leaving, that yours is a bond that cannot be broken."

Dean was stunned again - yet he still wasn't flagging. In fact, Becky telling him that he needed Sam and that he belonged to Sam was almost kinda maybe working for him.

"Oh! There's Sam! _Sam_!"

Jeez, he could hear Becky calling out in the parking lot before he could even hear the Impala's distinctive engine. He hung up on her abruptly and got up, still awkwardly stiff in his jeans, to move the heavy polyester curtains aside with one finger and peer out. Sure enough, the sleek black Chevy was pulling into the lot, and there was Becky in her knee socks, waving like a lunatic. He unlocked the door and whistled at her through his teeth, calling her attention sharply to him. He wanted to give her the finger and shoo her away back to her new boytoy, but instead of reading his flustered expression, Becky just beamed and hop-skip-walked over.

"Hey," Dean said sternly. "I don't know what you're doing here, but you have to leave."

Her face fell, and Dean felt suddenly like he was picking on a kid. Her phone was still at her ear, but she lowered it after a moment. Sam pulled up beside her, and Dean could see the tension in his face, the intent. Becky was seriously cock-blocking them right then, Jesus Christ. Sam killed the engine and got out of the car, towering over Becky and hitting her with the full-on bedroom eyes he'd been sporting for the last thirty miles.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was just talking to Dean about everything," Becky said, and even an idiot would've seen that she had it bad for Sam, prophet of the Lord or no. It was in her eyes and the way she clutched her phone and looked more manic than usual. She spared Dean a glance, then darted forward, defying his instructions, and hugged Sam, who was holding a black plastic bag from the adult store in one hand. "Oh, Sam!"

Sam wordlessly gave her back a slow, cautious pat, arching his brows at Dean.

Dean gave up.

"She knows," he said simply.

"She knows... what?" asked Sam, and backed Becky up one-handed.

"Everything," Becky breathed. "I was right behind you the whole way here. I pulled in right after you. I knew you were distracted, or you would've seen me waving, but I thought maybe you were just angsting or having a difficult but meaningful conversation fraught with awkward apologies and barely-silenced desire. But I saw you... you know. Sam. _Pleasure_ Dean. Right in the parking lot! It was so hot! Sex in the Impala is one of my favorite cliches."

Sam looked like he was pinning this all down in that noggin of his, narrowing his eyes till you could practically see the gears working. "Becky," he finally said, "I think you'd better come in."

"Why not, it's not like we were in the middle of anything." Dean tried to adjust his junk so it wasn't taking over Tokyo and let the door swing open uselessly.

Becky swayed in, and oh, boy. Loafers and a knee-length skirt. Painful. Sam followed in that wide-shouldered saunter he had and shut the door behind them, locking the knob and the pathetic chain and doing the cursory window-check that Dean had done just a minute earlier.

"So you watched us, huh, Becky?" Sam asked, voice somewhere oddly between that comforting puppy-dog pitch and that _I am gonna kick. your. ass_ pitch. "What, did you get off on that? Are you one of those slash fans?"

"I wrote het once too," said Becky. She looked at Dean significantly. "Dean/Lisa. How crazy was that sex? It sounded uh-may-zing!"

Dean paused. He'd just collapsed onto the bed and hung his head between his knees with mixed frustration and humiliation, but he couldn't help but respond to that with some interest. But Sam was on some other page entirely. He threw the plastic bag on the bed, right by Dean, his aim true.

"So you've thought a lot about my brother, huh?"

" _Oh_ , yeah." That seemed to be an understatement.

"Really," Dean said, trying to follow Sam's lead even though he felt more wary and weirded out than anything else. God, his life. "'Cause I kinda thought you were a... Sam-girl."

"Well," she said, and giggled just looking at Sam. Sam's lips perked up at one corner, then he transferred his attention to Dean.

"You're still up for it, aren't you, Dean. Still just as hard as you were when I was blowing you in the car."

It was unnerving.

"You would've loved it if I'd've let you finish, huh?" asked Sam, half-smiling darkly.

"What is this, a Q&A panel about my dick?" Dean grunted.

"Help me out, here, Becky," Sam implored, only he was totally in control then, bringing Dean and Becky to the same page he was on, and Becky blinked owlishly for a couple of seconds. "You saw his face, right? Did my brother look like he was about to blow it big-time?"

Becky gave a truthful nod, looking all sorry-kiddo at Dean, and Dean threw his hands up weakly. He was done being humiliated, especially if Sam was talking like that - twisted stuff that he shouldn't ever be hearing coming out of Sammy's mouth. Dean's hands came to his fly, where his dick was aching, still feeling full and sensitive from Sam's mouth.

"Hell, then. Let's get me out of these jeans."

"Go on," said Sam, only it was to Becky, and Becky pumped her fists wildly, like a little kid told she could finally go open a present, and came toward Dean brimming with wild, barely-tamed energy. That was when Dean saw Sam's facade falter a little - he looked momentarily confused, lip curling downward instead of upward. He obviously hadn't been expecting her to jump right in. Maybe he'd thought she was a virgin, or would just realize she wasn't actually welcome if she was thrust right in the middle of all this, or he was relying on her being loyal to Chuck or something. No, instead she was sinking down to her knees in front of Dean and pulling at his jeans. He caught her wrists and held them tight.

"You down with this, Becky?" he asked, dead serious, not sure what to expect.

"Oh, yes," Becky breathed. "I am so down."

Dean released her and then leaned back on his elbows, letting her tug his jeans down his hips. Her mouth fell open as she saw what he was packing in his boxers. It was weird, at first, then kind of flattering.

"You sure?" asked Sam, the crack in his armor invisible now, and came up behind her, dwarfing her by an incredible amount; the sight of him so huge compared to her turned Dean's crank and made his hips cant up helplessly. He was used to Sam being humongous, but he was hardly short, himself, and could handle it. Sam looked like he'd break her in two, and suddenly Becky herself was a whole lot more interesting for him to look at. He suddenly saw that somewhere under her skirt and sweater vest, she had tits and hips, and hell, it wasn't like she wasn't kinda cute, in some nerdy freak way.

Sam grabbed her by the back of the collar of her plaid blouse, and Becky stood automatically, responsive, eyes wide and excited. Sam's hands wandered down her hips as he stretched himself downwards, and Dean saw his fingers curl under the hem of her skirt a heartbeat before he tugged it up, ruthlessly baring her panties. Dean's crank was inexplicably turned further. He was used to picking up girls who were wearing underwear he was meant to see: black satin with lace, little red thongs, flowery romantic stuff. Becky was wearing white cotton panties printed with "Hello Kitty" and detailed in red elastic, and her thighs were milky-pale and freckled and tensed as she gasped.

"Well hello, kitty," Dean said happily, checking her out from navel to toe, then back up again, loafers to knee socks to panties.

Sam's thumbs hitched into them on either side of Becky's pelvic bones, tan against her belly, and her breaths tremored, and so did Dean's. Watching Sam handle a girl who so obviously had the hots for him was working for him as much as the weird little girl underoos.

"How about riding Dean's cock? You down with that?" Sam asked her lowly.

"Y-yes!" she stammered.

"Dean. Take her panties off."

When Sam took control like that, Dean couldn't help but obey. His fingers brushed Sam's as he drew down the cartoon-print panties and bared Becky from the waist down; God, now he was so close, he could smell her, and so much so that he realized she'd probably gotten wet standing in the parking lot getting her peep on. 

Trying to be nice, he grasped at one of Becky's ankles and pulled her foot, loafer and all, out of the leg hole of her panties, and in his opinion, that was all it took.

"C'mon, there, little Sam-girl," he said, letting his knuckle brush teasingly between her legs and enjoying how she quivered and gasped " _Dean_ ," and leaned weakly back against Sam. He shoved his boxers carelessly down to his knees, licked his knuckle and tasted the tang of girl slick, and grinned as Sam practically picked her up by the hips, moving her until her knees were planted on the bedspread on either side of him and her sandy hair was brushing his face. She smelled... perky, clean but unbelievably ripe and aroused. She was breathing fast and arrhythmic, and he braced her at the waist, meeting Sam's hands and feeling a flush of heat just touching his brother like that, when Becky _knew_ what they were, knew they were brothers in every way.

"God, Becky, his dick's so fucking hard," Sam breathed nastily, and Dean felt a firm grip -- not Becky's -- around it. "Think you can take it?"

"I don't know, Sam," was what Becky moaned.

"I think you can. You're a big girl," Sam said, and rubbed the sensitive head of Dean's prick against the slick folds of Becky's cunt - God, he could feel just where to slip in, the heat of her hole, and instinct kicked in on overdrive to fill it.

"Oh, Jesus, Sam," he groaned through his teeth, and Sam gave Becky's ass a mild slap.

"Ooh, Sam," growled Becky, and hitched her hips until Sam let her slide down Dean's dick. She was so wet, her pussy tiny but taking Dean eagerly, juices slipping down Dean's balls.

"That's it. Fuckin' spank this bad little fangirl." Dean grabbed at her hair so he could see her face, her big eyes shut for once and her mouth in an _oh_ of heat as she moved, riding him with enough expertise and hunger he was pretty sure she wasn't a virgin, at least. Sam grabbed, too, and for a minute, they were almost fighting for her attentions, Sam smacking her ass with a dark force Dean didn't want to even question, Dean saying, "You want that dick, huh, Becky? Bet you want Sam's, too, don't you. Want Sam to fuck you like he fucks me, right in the ass."

"Yeah? Would you like that?" Sam sounded interested, amused, and fucking sinful all at once, and Dean didn't even know who he was talking to, Becky or _him_.

"Double penetration?" Becky got out between gasps and grunts. "Oh my God. That's so dirty."

"You'll fuckin' love it," Dean said nastily. "Sam and me in you at the same time, and his dick's fucking huge, Becky. Believe me. He'll own your sweet little ass."

"He already does."

"Do it, Sam," said Dean, because he could see Becky's face, the hazy smile that overtook it.

"Oh, Jesus, Sam. Lube me up!" Becky pleaded.

Dean spotted Sam's hand groping for the black plastic bag he'd brought back with him, and he automatically caught Becky's hips, stilling them for Sam, and got his ass in gear, fucking his cock up into Becky's slit with smooth, coasting pumps, biting his lip so he wouldn't lose it before Sam was in there with him.

"Oh, Sam. Oh, Dean," Becky whispered, trading off between their names like a mantra, and responded, "Oh, God, Dean, yes," when Dean asked, "That good, sweetheart? You like Sammy's fingers opening your ass up for him?"

He got lost in making Becky moan just right for him, fucking her sweeter than he thought he would, but he knew when Sam was ready, because he kneed up on the bed beside Becky, straddling Dean's knees, and reached around to squeeze her tits through her shirt and sweater vest briefly before grabbing at her hips, fingers meshing with Dean's. Dean and Becky both jumped and moaned; Sam's dick was sliding around in the mess of lube and pussy, probing around, and Dean went on edge, an edge he didn't even know existed until then.

"Relax. Gonna be fine," he breathed at Becky, and kept excruciatingly still as Sam worked his way into Becky's ass. He could feel it, he thought, the knob of Sam's cock punching all huge past the clutch of her hole, the way she struggled to take it. There was a minute where he wondered if they wouldn't break her in half - if she wasn't so full of Winchester dick she might start screaming in pain. Then Sam was pressing a hand to her back, pushing her down into Dean, and he cradled her, slid his dick in her and against Sam inside her, somehow crammed just against him even through her. Sam's face was red as he leaned over her shoulder and caught Dean in a kiss so hungry he could've passed out.

"Oh, Sam and Dean," he finally heard Becky sighing dazedly, and felt a few tiny pinpricks of mired embarrassment and heat. He locked fingers in Becky's hair, fisting it as he tilted his mouth up for Sam again, and Sam growled at him, hips taking up a rhythm that fucked Becky onto him, all over him in a wet squirm. It was an insane feeling to be buried in hot, wet pussy and hearing the shrieks of a chick and yet be kissing Sam and feeling him fuck her, too.

"Attagirl," is what Sam said when she came, judging by the explosive noises and the sopping slickness of their dicks working in her, then he pulled her upright again so she could ride them both at the same time, ungainly in her knee socks and baring her teeth like an animal. She bounced between them like an insane person, until Dean was blowing it in her and huffing, "Sam, Sam, fuckin' _comin'_."

"Do me, Sam," Becky was howling. "Own my ass like you own Dean's --"

Sam's eyes clenched shut, and Dean watched him come like it was a dream, watched the muscles in his arms go tight and the veins stand out under his skin, watched him loading Becky up. He immediately thought about how it would look when they pulled apart, all slow and sticky, Becky open and swollen and dripping strings of their thick white come on the motel bed, down her knee socks and into her Hello Kitty panties.

He had a newfound clarity of mind.

He was kind of starting to like this girl. She was hands-down the freakiest chick he'd ever done. Hopefully, though, wherever he was, Chuck wasn't writing any of this down.


End file.
